


Light in the Darkness

by SelenaTerna



Series: Prompt Fics [6]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotions, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Post-Episode AU: s02e13 Doomsday, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-02 22:21:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11518689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelenaTerna/pseuds/SelenaTerna
Summary: The Doctor muses on his emotional history when it comes to one Rose Tyler. The good, the bad and everything in between.





	Light in the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HiddenTreasures](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenTreasures/gifts).



> Hi lovelies, this little fic is another one of my very, VERY overdue Tumblr milestone prompt giveaway fills. Ashley prompted me with 'tranquil', and after a little muse poking, this is what came out. It's a little different from my usual again, largely an introspective piece, and I hope you like it, Ashely- I'm sorry it took so long! 
> 
> This fic is set post-doomsday and is canon AU.
> 
> Thanks so much to the lovely mountaingirlheidi for the quick look-over!

_Tranquility_ was hardly a state anyone would associate with him. Well, not in his last body, at any rate and certainly not in his current one.

The Doctor slid his hands into his pockets and leaned against the console, remembering.

His last body had been born in the aftermath of the Time War. He’d been angry, so angry, grieving and furious _,_ ultimately despairing….until _her_.

Until Rose.

She’d turned him inside out, confusing and intriguing him by turns, challenging and irritating him, frightening and inadvertently hurting him (although honestly, she was harsher with herself about 1987 than he’d ever been), and utterly enthralling him with her light. He’d been bewildered and afraid, in the beginning, and then grudgingly affectionate, if a bit defensive and more than a little jealous. Very quickly, he’d become unquestionably and hopelessly devoted and his battered and lonely soul had basked in her uncomplicated affection, her compassion, her love and her zest for life. Though it terrified him, she’d  pulled him back from the abyss and he’d lived for her and died for her. He’d died _loving_ her.

As for his current body….

He sighed and shook his head.

His current body had been born hopelessly smitten and utterly devoted, the same way his last body had died. But soon old fears had crept in and he’d grown afraid, panicked, becoming notably distant where it counted- rushing, babbling, rarely stopping to talk or think, a _whirlwind._ Worse _,_ he’d been cruel and selfish, _weak_ , all the while grieving and yearning for her. For Rose.

He’d hurt her.

And so she’d pulled back. His pink and yellow Rose had become careful where she’d once been open and affectionate, blank where she’d once been expressive and remote where once her presence had always touched the edges of his mind. 

His foolish, selfish actions in France had been the final straw, costing him dearly (although his actions with Sarah-Jane certainly hadn’t helped) and the very next day she’d been chasing after another man, her ‘not-father’ in a parallel world, wounded, raw and desperate for the acceptance and affection, for the _belonging,_ the Doctor had unthinkingly denied her. 

That was when he’d realised he’d also become a hopeless hypocrite; he’d been afraid, had drawn back to protect himself, and pursued any distraction in his path to drown out his fear but when _Rose_ had done the same he’d been wounded and wanted it to stop immediately. He’d been so very afraid he’d lose her, that she wouldn’t come back and hadn’t been able to bear the thought, calling himself every kind of fool, because that’s what he was. It might well have cost him the most precious gift the universe had given him.

She _had_ come back, in the end, partly because that Pete Tyler hadn’t been _her_ Pete Tyler, and he’d hurt her, rejected her just as the Doctor had. But she’d come back nonetheless and he’d seized it for the second chance it was.

He’d been terrifyingly _open_ , honest, and so very contrite. He’d begged and pleaded and promised, abased himself before her and because she was better than he’d ever be, she’d forgiven him and they’d been…happy. They’d been _together_.

The fear had still raged in the back of his mind but he’d tamped it down and continued smilingly on, believing her when she said _forever_ , though he could see the approaching storm.

Then had come Canary Wharf. He’d been presumptuous, sending her away, and she'd come right back, furious with his arrogance. She’d fought by his side, helped him… only for the universe to rip her away again.

He shuddered. 

It had broken him. He’d despaired and sought death, many times, heedless of his companions or the rest of the world. He'd felt ashamed, afterwards, knowing what Rose would have thought of that, of what he’d put Martha through and he’d forced himself to continue, to the be the last of the Time Lords.

But still he was broken, incomplete, turbulent and utterly, terrifyingly alone in his mind once more.

Without Rose, he could never be anything else. There could be no peace, would never be any peace for him without her. His one light, his _hope_ , had been taken away leaving nothing more than the shell of a man shrouded in darkness. 

“Doctor?” 

He jumped as a pair of warm, familiar hands slid around his waist and onto his stomach, tugging him into the wonderfully warm, familiar, _beloved_ body at his back.

He smiled, a fierce joy coursing through him.

“Rose.”

Because of course, she had come back. His brilliant, determined Rose had absolutely _refused_ to accept the impossibility of such a feat, working with Torchwood’s best and brightest for four years, blasting herself time and time again through the walls of the universe. She'd finally found him on a cold winter’s day, on a deserted planet the TARDIS had stubbornly refused to leave and for the first time since he’d lost her, a light had shone in the darkness.

He turned in her arms, and held her close to him, burying his face in her hair and revelling in her scent. Her love for him blazed across their bond and he gloried in it, the ache he’d felt at dwelling on old losses fading into nothing.

The agony and the brokenness of her absence were past, now, only resurfacing in nightmares, when he woke screaming, convinced that she was still gone. Only now, Rose was _here_ , beside him in their bed, to fight them, to dispel them, to love him. Just as he did for her.

His soul was no longer broken, no longer turbulent or restless or wounded and he had no more need to run from life, from emotion, from people and their all too perceptive eyes. Oh, to the rest of the world, he was as he ever had been- the adventurer, the warrior, the seeker of truth and destroyer of worlds, rude and not ginger, an alien in a blue box.

But here, in _her_ arms, he was simply content to _be._

He was utterly tranquil.

He was at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you have any questions or comments, I'm at countessselena.tumblr.com.


End file.
